The Palace Without Entrance
by musapan
Summary: The order of life has been disturbed. A cursed palace without an entrance looms over the sand in the middle of the desert. A throne sits without a Prince. Hafa, Makarim, Rim, Reem and Najiya and an array of new friends must find a way to set things right before reality collapses and their threads of fate are severed forever. Sequel to "The Palace That Rose From the Sands"
1. Chapter 1

It appeared in a cloud of suffocating black smoke and the putrid smell of brimstone. The form it chose was a glistening black snake, enormous in size, tightly coiled within the summoning space, sleek head raised intimidatingly high.

The boy had been preparing for this moment for weeks. Even so, he felt himself shake under the snake's penetrating gaze, his eyes unblinking and staring in both horror and awe.

"Such a young boy, summoning such a storied and feared djinn," the creature hissed, red eyes blazing. "How many years are you? Ten? Twelve?"

The boy steeled himself, trying to remember everything he'd read about this ritual. Djinn _lie_. They manipulate. When trapped by humans, they try any number of underhanded tricks to ensure their freedom. He couldn't let himself be distracted.

"I'm your new master. My age shouldn't matter." came the boy's stiff reply.

"Oooh," the djinn flicked his tongue out amusedly. "Look at the brave face the child puts on. Tell me, boy, do you have any idea who I am?"

The boy narrowed his eyes only slightly. "Of course I do. You're Sharik the Bloody, one of the most powerful djinn that Solomon ever enslaved."

Sharik drew himself up higher, opening his mouth to expose his terrifying fangs. "And you still thought it wise to summon me? For what purpose, pray tell? Is there a little human girl whom you fancy?" The ifrit scoffed. "Should I make her fall in love with you? Oh, let me guess… The boys in the village are giving you a tough time, and you want me to scare them off, yeah? _Please _tell me, o master, what a little tiny human like you could _possibly _want of me."

The boy's lips pressed together firmly. He cleared his throat, making sure to say everything correctly and clearly. "I want you to heal someone for me."

The snake stared at the boy as if he'd gone mad. "Heal someone? Are you being serious?"

"Extremely."

Sharik laughed then, a sound that started off as a soft, demonic chuckle and erupted into a guffaw that might have knocked him over had the summoning circle been roomier. The boy wondered if there was any way short of a miracle that the racket didn't wake the entire village.

"Goodness me… I nearly thought I'd misheard you. You took the time and energy to learn how to summon djinn, learn how to create a moderately impressive summoning circle, and then chose to summon one of the worst ifrits in mankind's history just to _heal _someone?" He took a breath for air, his laughter still coming out in short huffs. "That's _far _sillier than anything I could have come up with."

"What's silly about it?" the boy asked defensively. He admonished himself mentally a moment later, realizing that he let the djinn get to him after all.

"You humans have healers and physicians, do you not?" Sharik asked. "Why summon a djinn to do the job?"

"He's beyond mortal help. They've all seen to him, and no one can help him."

"Everyone dies, foolish child. It's better to learn that lesson early on and mourn your kin then think you can play Solomon every time you need a miracle."

"He's not _my _kin," the boy retorted hotly, "and your opinion doesn't matter. I'm your master, I summoned you, and I control you right now. So if I want something done, you do it."

"Oh-ho?" Sharik hissed snidely. His coils shifted excitedly within his space, his eyes twinkling. "So I was close? Are you trying to win over the love of your young life by saving _her _father, perhaps? So _selfless_. So _heroic_."

The boy reddened and looked away. "He's not…Look, just shut up! Can you do it or can't you?"

Sharik regarded the boy for a long moment before answering. "Tell me something. How did you learn my name?"

"I asked you a question!" the boy said angrily.

"And I will answer your question. Right after you tell me where you learned my name."

The boy frowned and crossed his arms. "I really don't see how it's any of your business. What difference does it make?"

Sharik sighed loudly. "Come now. If you're truly my master, what harm could it possibly do to humor your servant just a little? I'm curious by nature. Knowledge of my name is scarce. You must either be incredibly skilled at finding information or you just got lucky."

There was a pronounced silence as the boy weighed the pros and cons of giving the ifrit information. Regrettably, Sharik had a point. What harm could it do? The creature was confined, and the sooner the mystery was out of the way, the sooner they could move on and discuss the terms of his servitude.

"I found a book." the boy finally said reluctantly.

"You can read?" Sharik asked in surprise. The boy's chest swelled with pride.

"My father taught me. He collects books from traveling vendors whenever he can. He bought a book last year and let me read it. It spoke of Solomon's greatest victories and accomplishments. It mentioned you, and several others."

"_Accomplishments_," Sharik hissed scornfully. "Did it happen to mention that all of Solomon's _accomplishments _were made possible by the power of the djinn he branded? Did it speak of all of his heroic victories, won by the djinn he sent out into the fray as he sat back on his throne, counting his gold and making love to countless human women?"

"That's-"

"Did it also mention, o master, that he destroyed many of the djinn in his charge? And those he didn't destroy were ripped to pieces, unable to return to their original form and power?"

"Enough!" the boy shouted, leveling the snake a fierce look. "None of that matters to me! _Can _you save man's life, or _can't _you?"

Sharik tilted his head in thought. "I should be able to," he said, "but not without help. You see, I was one of the lucky djinn that escaped Solomon with my life. However, he tore my essence asunder, and because of this, my power is limited."

The boy's expression softened. "Well then… What would you need in order to do it?"

The snake seemed to smile, flickering light from the lantern on the nearby table dancing off of his ebony scales. "Your trust," came Sharik's sultry reply. "I would need you to let me use your body."

"What…? You mean like _possession_?!" the boy exclaimed. Surely this was a trick. In all the reading he'd done, the topic of possession had only come up once, and it was very clear that it was not a good idea, no matter the reason.

"Not like possession," Sharik said. "Staying in the mortal realm - your world - for any amount of time is damaging to me, you see. I'm in pain as we speak. Since I can't linger here for long without risking death, I need a mortal vessel to latch onto so that I may exist here without fading away. Do you understand? If you let me latch on to your body, I can carry out any _number _of amazing feats. Then I could _easily _save this tragically ill person you speak of. Doesn't that sound like a good deal?"

It sounded like a trick. No, it _had _to be a trick. Even if Sharik was telling the truth, this didn't sound like something that would end even remotely well. On the other hand, if Sharik was indeed telling the truth, then all of this would have been for nothing. All of the other djinn named in the book had already been tried. He hadn't wanted to summon the strongest, fiercest djinn of the bunch in the first place, as it seemed particularly dangerous for his first summoning attempt, but the others simply didn't respond when he'd summoned. Judging by what Sharik had just told him, he assumed now that they were all long dead, destroyed by Solomon.

"No," the boy said decidedly. "You're going to have to figure out something else. I'm not giving you permission to do anything like that."

The eyes of the snake were unblinking, his form unnaturally still. He could swear the room had just become colder, and the lantern on the table flickered wildly.

"I see," Sharik said calmly. "Well, o master, do you mind telling me one last thing? Where is this book? I'm _dreadfully curious_ as to where you are keeping it."

The boy betrayed himself by letting his anxious gaze flick to the table, where the book sat atop a small pile of newer, better preserved tomes that hadn't seen quite as many years. The look on Sharik's face marked his confirmation, and the boy could have kicked himself if it wouldn't risk him falling out of the protective circle. Instead, he nervously fondled the charm on the bracelet circled around his wrist.

"Mm. I have a bit of advice for you, my master. When summoning a djinn of indeterminable power, making sure all of your calculations are correct before doing so is an absolute _necessity_. If even the tiniest rune or line was misplaced, the djinn you summon could kill you in less time than it would take you to speak its name."

"I - I know that!" the boy exclaimed, flustered. "I don't need you to tell me! My circle is perfect!"

He was just trying to scare him. This is what djinn do. They lie, they bluff, and they play on the insecurities and fears of humans. This djinn was clever, but it was nothing the boy couldn't handle. He was confident in the lines he'd drawn, he'd checked them over more times than he could count. He'd read everything he could find about summoning and controlling djinn, even when he'd had to hide those taboo books from his parents under a loose board beneath his bed.

"It _is_ well-done, boy, I'll give you that." Sharik said, glossy head swaying, forked tongue wagging. "Not many your age have accomplished as much. But I'm not commenting on the _quality _of your lines. In being precise, you must also leave no margin for error."

Despite what the boy told himself, there was something akin to excitement hidden in Sharik's words that unnerved him. Sharik was staring at a fixed spot behind him, his shrewd gaze unwavering and deliberately leading; the boy reluctantly followed his eyes, feeling a growing dread as the seconds ticked on. His eyes widened, his heart pounded in his ears, and his lips parted but no sound came out.

There was a mouse.

The boy had no qualms with mice - _or _rats for that matter - but this particular mouse was sitting on the outermost line of the protective circle, it's small furry body streaked with chalk, its small paws holding a piece of food it had undoubtedly nabbed from the kitchen. The boy was positive that his blood had turned to ice, and every last strand of hair on the back of his head stood rigid with terror.

When he turned back around, he let out a panicked yelp. The snake's face was inches away from his own, red eyes boring into his, a cold tongue flicking out and brushing over his nose.

"I should thank you," Sharik's voice was a low rumble, sweet and terrible, his massive ebony form looming over the shaking fool of a boy. Their proximity was so close the boy could feel the cold emanating from the terrifying corporeal body of the snake, freezing him over with the terrible realization that death was near, _so incredibly_ near. "Being summoned is more trouble than it's worth, but you did me the kindness of summoning me to the last known earthly mention of my name. I can ensure that you are the very last human to ever call on me. So sorry that your intentions were so pure in nature... It's really a shame."

The snake lunged and the boy fell backwards with a shout, hitting the table and sending the books flying. The lantern overturned and rolled off the table, shattering into a pile of glass, oil and fire. The flame quickly spread to the antique carpet rolled against the door, filling the room with smoke in no time at all.

The boy frantically scrambled backwards, his shoulders colliding with the wall behind him. Sharik was surveying the growing fire, intrigued, fire light dancing on his scales. "Nothing cleanses quite like fire," he sighed contentedly, his gaze methodically turning to regard the petrified boy quaking in the corner. "You know… I think I have _just enough_ strength to help this fire grow a little more."

Tears sliding down his cheeks, the boy choked back a sob, his hand finding the good luck charm on his bracelet that Rim had given him and grasping it for all he was worth.

.

.

.

"Wait up!" Ghazi rang, her feet planted firmly in sand, her hands anchored on her knees. "Can't we take a break for a bit?"

Aini shielded his eyes from the sun and glanced back at her, smiling reproachfully. "We're almost to the village, can you push on for just a little while longer?" Ghazi let out an exaggerated sigh of fatigue in reply. "Why not ride Fatima until we get there?"

Ghazi tightened her grip on her horse's head harness and stroked the animal's warm nose. "She's just as tired as I am! We've been out of oats for ages!"

Aini chuckled. "It's been a few hours. We'll buy more at the village." He looked around, searching for the shimmering dark shapes in the distance that marked their next destination. They looked closer than he was expecting. "Excuse me, Miss Maha? When can we expect to make it there?"

A beautiful woman with chestnut hair and a busty figure clad in revealing harem clothing materialized just in front of the company, her arms crossed. She yawned hugely.

"Within the hour, I think. Just keep up the pace!" she said, in a tone that was meant to convey encouragement but just ended up sounding mildly condescending. Ghazi flashed the jann an icy look.

"I'm still not used to all this, you know!" she said defensively. "My stamina isn't exactly suitable for these conditions!"

"You've been doing wonderfully so far," Aini pointed out seriously, hoping he wasn't fanning the fire with unintentional pandering.

"Well, I'm no where near Hafa's level. He always looks like the desert doesn't bother him at all, even on the hottest days." Ghazi pointed out with a wistful sigh. Aini slowed his pace to match Ghazi's a bit more closely.

"That's because Haru was trapped in the desert for years!" he whispered pointedly. "He's gotten numb to it by now!"

"It's not a difficult thing to get used to," Hafa called back to his two companions, unsure as to why they continually forgot that whispering several feet away from him did little good. He was thirsty, not deaf. "It's all a matter of knowing exactly where to step."

Aini immediately reddened in embarrassment. "S-sorry, Haru, I didn't mean-"

"Where to step?" Ghazi inquired, cutting off Aini's rushed apology, "You mean there's a trick to it?"

A drifting breeze picked up and ruffled Hafa's keffiyeh and scarf, dusting his nose with sand. His camel prodded him in the shoulder with an urgent snort, something he usually did when he sensed water was nearby. Hafa's eyes flicked up and fixed on the horizon, noting the previously undefined shapes that were beginning to turn into houses, modest buildings and a shining sliver of ocean running along the west perimeter of the village. From here, the settlement looked meager, but large enough to house plenty of traders and merchants to meet their needs. They didn't need much, anyway: feed for the animals, a bit of food for themselves and a place to rest their head for the night that wasn't a dusty, uncomfortable tent. Hafa didn't particularly dislike the tents, in fact, they rather reminded him of Makarim when the wind beat against the thin walls, and the reminiscence helped him sleep with comfort. Ghazi was unaccustomed to the rough-and-tumble lifestyle, however, and so Hafa felt almost honor-bound to provide her with more comfortable sleeping conditions whenever possible.

They had been searching for Rim for five months. To Hafa, it felt like a staggering amount of time. He'd never placed much faith in time or the agonizingly systematic manner in which it carried itself, but he found it impossible to disregard since becoming entirely mortal. He was reminded of its overbearing presence every time he nicked himself or felt his stomach rumble with hunger. And now, the thought of Rim being out there stranded on the sands alone and cursed pounded a nail of guilt into his heart every passing minute, the accumulated time acting as the mallet. Every time he would catch himself losing hope, Ghazi and Aini's unwavering faith would bring him back from the looming darkness and he would push on.

He missed Makarim terribly. They had returned to the city only once since their initial departure, to reunite with their friends and give them an update on their progress. (Or lack thereof.) They had also hoped to hear word of Siraj al Din's whereabouts, but he was still unaccounted for.

The situation hadn't allowed for much private time with Makarim, but that was expected. For fear of wanting to delay any longer, they hadn't lingered long, leaving after only one night and part of a day. Hafa didn't feel right being content for even a moment while Rim was still lost to the sands.

"When you step, don't let yourself sink into the sand. Feel it in your feet and shift your weight when you walk so that you are forming your own footsteps." Hafa explained coolly. Ghazi looked down, took a careful step, and frowned.

"I don't think I understand." she said.

"Feel the sand under your feet-"

"That's exactly what I don't understand!" Ghazi cut in sharply. Miss Maha giggled.

Aini swallowed a generous gulp of water from his flask and resumed his earlier pace. "We'll be there soon, so I wouldn't worry too much about- Ghazi? What is it?"

When they looked back Ghazi was stopped, her gaze fixed somewhere distant, her brows drawn in concern. Hafa and Aini followed her eyes and squinted at the large form that loomed in the distance, far south of the village. It was hard to make out as anything more than a shape from where they stood, but Hafa thought he could see towers and a domed ceiling. The desert heat was making it difficult to focus on anything significant.

"What is that?" Aini asked, standing on tip-toes and shielding his eyes with both hands.

Ghazi was still staring, her pink mouth forming a small 'o' of intrigue. "It looks like a palace." she said.

Hafa silently agreed. He glanced up at Maha, who was floating just above them, also staring at the far-off structure. "Do you know what that is?"

The jann shrugged her shoulders. "It _does _look like a palace, but it doesn't look familiar." she said. "Whatever it is, it looks abandoned. I try and stay away from ruins whenever possible… Too many ghuls running around."

"Ghuls?" Aini chimed curiously.

"Dirty djinn who enjoy spending their time in abandoned areas and graveyards." Maha explained with a shiver. "They've never been fond of jann, and I suppose we've never been fond of them. Strictly speaking, we don't much care for one another."

"Ghazi," Hafa prompted, gaining Ghazi's wide-eyed attention, "should we go there tomorrow?"

A light breeze blew strands of maroon hair over Ghazi's face as she nodded. "I'd like to. Seems mysterious, doesn't it?"

Hafa looked back toward the palace. The longer he looked, the more uneasy he felt. His instincts were telling him that investigating it was a poor choice, but the possibility of finding Rim there made him ignore the growing feeling of dread that was clawing at his insides.

.

.

.

They arrived at their destination just as the sun was drawing nearer to the western sky, painting the sky orange and red. Up close, the village was much more ramshackle than they had previously assumed, and oddly quiet despite it being the normal time for merchants to be selling the last of their goods for the day. The modest buildings and homes were stacked tightly together and were connected by narrow stairways and public clotheslines, and together the various property formed much of the outer wall of the village. A stream of water cradled the east side of town, and Hafa's attention was unavoidably diverted as soon as the sparkling water came within view.

The only person to be seen outside of town was a young woman, crouched by the edge of the water using a wooden laundry bat to tediously reach for something in the water. As yet it didn't seem like she had noticed them, and so Ghazi tentatively stepped forward, wearing a polite smile.

"Hello there, sorry to interrupt," she began, and the girl jumped, a surprised yelp tumbling from her lips. She turned toward the company with wide, guilty eyes. Ghazi immediately raised her hands apologetically. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to scare you-"

"It isn't my fault!" the girl exclaimed, standing and letting the laundry bat fall to the ground. "There was a strong wind, it took my hijab right off and it landed in the water… I've been trying to get it back, so…!"

Aini raised a calming hand. "Slow down! We don't mean you any harm, we're just a small group of travelers who were hoping we could stay a night in the village." The girl fell confusedly silent, and so Aini carefully continued. "You live here, right?"

The girl nodded. Her eyes were fixed to the ground, her hands nervously stroking the exposed dark hair that was thrown over her shoulder. "Yes… But… You won't tell anyone, then?"

"Tell anyone what?" Ghazi asked gently.

The girl reddened. "That you saw me without my hijab?" her voice was hushed and scandalous.

Ghazi and Aini exchanged a look. "Is that important?" Aini finally asked, confused.

The look of worry on the girl's face was instantly replaced with one of incredulity. "Well… Yes. Is it not important where _you _come from?"

The two fell awkwardly silent. It wasn't an easy thing to offhandedly mention that you had spent the last few years in a cursed palace where all of the rules and laws were created by a possessed Prince who didn't seem particularly interested in gender-based regulations. Their first experience in a neighboring kingdom more than three months back had been a harrowing one. They had nearly been attacked when Ghazi entered along with them without her hood up; it had taken Aini quite a while to talk the townsfolk out of rioting.

"We're not really from around here…" Ghazi said finally, looking to Aini for help.

"You need that or else you'll be in trouble, right?" he asked her. The girl nodded.

"It's forbidden for us to be without it. I was hoping to get it back before nightfall, but at this rate…" she wrung her hands, looking anxiously back at the water.

Hafa's eyes followed hers. Her white hijab was currently stuck on a rock some ways out, the mild current threatening to pull it away at any moment. Without hesitation, Hafa began to unravel his scarf and tossed his keffiyeh aside, approaching the water. The girl watched him with large eyes.

"What is he…?"

"Just be careful, Hafa!" Ghazi needlessly warned. She and Aini had seen Hafa do this so many times that it was no longer a surprise when he began to discard his clothing at the sight of water, nor was it unusual to have to wait for an hour at a time for him to be finished swimming. Ghazi turned back to the girl with a reassuring smile. "He'll be fine. He loves the water."

After stripping down to his undergarments, Hafa dove into the stream. He was immediately overcome with the familiar feeling of euphoria that usually accompanied the rejuvenating chill of water against his skin, and nearly lost himself in the sensation before remembering that he had an actual goal beyond his personal desire to feel the water today.

He surfaced just next to the cluster of rocks on which the white garment was snagged and carefully pulled it free. With the hijab in hand Hafa swam back to the water's edge, hoisting himself out. Ignoring how flustered the girl appeared to be handed something by a half-naked dripping wet stranger, Hafa held the hijab at arms length, his expression stony. She took it, looking at its sorry state.

"Thank you… You really didn't have to do that for me… I really can't thank you enough." she said, making furtive eye-contact before dropping her gaze to the ground. Hafa nodded, turned, and headed back to the water, sitting on the bank and letting his legs dangle in the river. She watched him go, and then diverted her attention back to Ghazi and Aini. "My name is Akilah, by the way."

Aini smiled. "Aini, and this is Ghazwa. The one over there is called Haru."

"Now that you have your hijab, everything will be alright, won't it?" Ghazi asked curiously. Akilah smiled sadly.

"It's still wet, so I'll have to wait for it to dry off. As long as no one finds me before then, it should be safe to go back."

Hafa watched the surface of the water, half-listening to the conversation. When he had been in his other form, he had observed plenty of human behavior, but no matter where he traveled, it was a man's world. From a djinn's point of view, it was all very queer. Gender meant little to djinn; both genders were equally fearsome, and their forms changed so often that it mattered little what reproductive organs they may or may not have. He hadn't even realized until Makarim pointed it out to him several months ago that two men falling in love was considered unnatural.

"We'll wait with you while it dries," Ghazi suggested kindly. "We actually had some questions about the area, if you don't mind us asking."

"Of course not," Akilah said, wringing out her hijab.

Aini pointed in the direction of the distant structure that was now just a hazy shadow on the horizon, veiled by the setting sun. "Do you know anything about that area? We passed it by earlier and it looked like it could be a temple or palace of some kind."

Akilah didn't need to look to know where Aini was indicating. Her expression became grave.

"It's an ancient palace, as far as we can tell. Legends say there's no way inside, and that Solomon was the only one to be granted entrance. The locals believe it's cursed."

Three sets of eyes were staring at Akilah with renewed interest. The mention of a curse was both unwelcome and highly tantalizing. None of them were sure if Rim would have stumbled upon such a place, but places steeped in magick were bound to give them more clues than the places they'd already searched.

"Why do they think it's cursed?" Hafa asked, standing up. Akilah seemed momentarily surprised that he had spoken.

"Every man who has ever been sent up there was never seen again. Most believe it's the work of djinn, and some think that the Goddess of Fate and Death dwells there." she said. The white camel behind them huffed and stomped.

"What do _you _believe?" Ghazi asked curiously.

"Me?" Akilah stared at her dripping wet hijab in thought. "Well, I'm not really sure. I've never even been near it. But some nights, a strange melancholy falls over the village, and it feels as if it's coming from the south, from that place. I can't explain it. On those night, no one leaves their homes, and everyone locks their doors."

"I'm assuming it's abandoned, then." Aini inquired. Akilah nodded.

"I would think so. No one's ever seen a person wandering the area, and we don't get any frequent visitors in the village." She leveled them a concerned look. "You're not planning on going up there, are you?"

Ghazi laughed, perhaps a bit too quickly. "No, we were only curious. Like I said, we aren't from around here."

"Ah."

"One more thing," Hafa had replaced almost all of his clothing and was rummaging around in one of the bags strapped to his camel. He retrieved a yellowed page of parchment and held it gingerly in his hands. He handed it to Akilah, and she confusedly took the paper, staring at the detailed charcoal rendering of a man's bust. "Have you seen this man in the last few months?"

Akilah stared at the drawing, eyes set and determined. Finally, her face relaxed and she shook her head. "I'm sorry, no. Did you draw this?"

Hafa nodded. Akilah regarded the drawing again. "You're amazingly talented. He looks so _real_. Is it a friend of yours?" Hafa looked away and nodded again.

"He's my brother." Ghazi said with a smile.

"You should ask around the village. It's possible he's been by here and I simply didn't see him." Akilah said apologetically. Her eyes widened in abrupt realization. "Actually… If it helps, there was a man here several weeks ago who was asking if we'd seen a man with a similar description. A friend of yours? Family, maybe?"

Ghazi and Aini gasped simultaneously and lurched forward, nearly making Akilah drop the drawing.

"Was he a tall man?"

"Orange hair? Yellow eyes?"

Akilah carefully handed the parchment back to Hafa before answering. "He _was _tall, I remember that clearly. His hair was black from what I could tell, but I only saw him from the back so I'm not sure what his face looked like. He was dressed in black and grey robes and he had a large staff with him."

Their shared disappointment was short-lived. It didn't sound like Siraj al Din, but then who _was _it? There was some mysterious stranger asking about Rim's whereabouts. It could have been a coincidence, but Hafa had a strong hunch that it wasn't.

.

.

.

It was dark by the time Akilah's hijab was dry enough to wear.

The four of them entered the village almost entirely unnoticed and quickly found a stable to leave their animals. As was the ritual, Ghazi wore Hafa's keffiyeh inside. They had never bothered to procure a proper veil for her - disguising her as a boy tended to raise less questions and help transactions move a lot more quickly. Maha had decidedly stayed just outside, promising Hafa she would return to them once they got settled in somewhere in town.

Akilah pointed them in the direction of a kindly man who was well-known for giving travelers a place to rest for the night for a small fee; they thanked her and bid her goodnight. Since the town merchants had closed up shop for the night and a caravan was expected to arrive in the early morning, the three of them decided to turn in early.

As Hafa lay curled up under the blankets generously provided for him, he couldn't stop thinking about the palace, or the tall man who had been asking about Rim. If they went to the palace, what would they find there? Akilah told them that Solomon had been the only one to find the entrance… Could it have been because of the ring? He balled his hand into a fist and pressed it to his chest. The cool metal circled around his middle finger burned against his skin. If that was the case, they had a better chance than most to investigate the area. But what about the strange man?

A fawn-colored field mouse scampered into Hafa's bedding, choosing to curl up just next to his chin. Hafa pulled the blankets over his face.

"I have a favor I want to ask you." Hafa said quietly. The field mouse re-adjusted, stuffing its face between its front paws.

"Mm?"

"In the morning, do you think you could go ahead and check the palace for us? I'd like an idea of what to expect before we head that way."

The mouse yawned hugely. "Sure. I'm not going to get too close, though. Any place associated with Solomon is a place I'd prefer to stay away from."

Hafa stroked the mouse's fur gently with his finger three times - something Maha swore up and down she _did not _like despite the fact that she did - and then let his eyes fall closed. He was worrying too much. He missed the days when he didn't worry about anything, or more accurately, when there was nothing to worry about. He felt like that was lifetimes away, and perhaps it was.

As always, his final thoughts before he slipped into sleep were of Makarim.

.

.

.

"Shoulders back, Ru'a! Plant your front foot firmly before the lunge!"

Reem's voice was always more commanding when he was instructing. He was practically incapable of being intimidating with the children even at his most fearsome, but that was never his intention. Old habits were hard to break, even in the dusty back room of Makarim's shop.

Ru'a squared her shoulders and thinned her mouth in determination. She leaned her weight onto her right foot, braced her arms and lowered the wooden sword before the lunge. She shot forward, mindful of what her feet were doing. _Too _mindful. Reem swatted her sword away with his, knocking her off balance. He easily caught her, her face turning up to regard him with excitable laughter.

Najiya was watching the sparring from his seat on a nearby table, swinging his legs, holding parchment in his left hand. "That was _soooo _good, Ru'a!" he chimed proudly with a bright smile.

"What's that called, again?" Ru'a asked Reem as she righted herself.

"A counter," Reem said with a smile. "Footing is everything. If someone were to counter your attack, you have to learn how to use their own force against them."

Ru'a nodded, eyes sparkling with determination. "Okay, let's go again!"

"Wait just a moment," Reem said, turning to Rani, who was standing at the back of the room clutching his wooden sword as if it were a newborn. "Rani? Did you want a turn?"

Rani nearly started. He shook his head resolutely. "N-no, if Ru'a wants another turn, she can go."

Ru'a shot her brother a scornful look. "You said that if I learned how to fight, you'd learn with me!" she accused. He frowned in reply, turning away from her stare pointedly.

"If you like it so much, do it by yourself!" he said. Reem cleared his throat.

"Rani, if you don't want to learn, no one is going to force you. You were doing very good the other day, so I assumed you thought it was fun." he said gently. Rani's expression softened.

"It's kind of fun, but it's kind of scary, too." he said in a small voice.

"Reem wouldn't _really _hurt us, Rani," Ru'a said admonishingly, and he shot her a glare.

"I know that!" he countered. "It isn't that…"

An awkward silence fell over the room, finally broken by an impatient huff from Ru'a. Najiya smiled, leaning back on the table. "It's scary to think about, right? What you're really learning to do?"

Rani didn't answer. Ru'a huffed again. Reem smiled. "It's only self-defense, Rani. No one is expecting you to arm yourself and go out into the world expecting a fight. It's a respectable practice in its own right, and sword-fighting can be a very beautiful art form."

The boy looked up curiously. "Beautiful?"

"Mm," Reem nodded. "It's very similar in nature to dancing, if you want to think of it that way."

An enthusiastic gasp of agreement erupted from the table, and Najiya threw his good arm in the air. "You're right! I never thought of it that way before!"

Rani reddened. "Like dancing?"

"Yes. Exactly like dancing."

"Enough talking!" Ru'a announced, brandishing her wooden sword triumphantly in the air. "Let's go again!"

"Alright, alright," Reem laughed, getting into position. The sound of heavy footsteps coming down the steps distracted them, and all eyes moved to the staircase as Makarim entered, a box hoisted on his shoulder.

"You're all down here?" he observed with a chuckle, setting the box down carefully.

"Big brother!" Ru'a squeaked happily, jumping in place and swinging her sword. "Watch me! Reem is teaching me how to avoid a counter!"

"Is he?" Makarim asked with a smile, finding a comfortable spot to stand next to Najiya, well out of their way.

Both contenders found their positions, Ru'a remembering to straighten her shoulders this time. The little girl lunged. Reem countered her, but she managed to shift her weight onto her other foot and stick her sword just under Reem's right armpit. Najiya began clapping joyously.

"I did it!" Ru'a squealed, throwing her arms around Reem's waist. "That was good, wasn't it?"

"Incredibly!" Reem replied.

Ru'a peeked around Reem to regard her big brother. "Did you see? Wasn't I good?"

Makarim approached the two of them, placing one hand on Reem's back and the other on Ru'a's head. "That was _very _good. Though, I still feel nervous, seeing you learn something so violent."

Reem flourished his hand dismissively. "It's nothing to do with violence! I feel it's important to teach the basics of self-defense, especially after everything we've been through."

"That's true, but…"

"It's a lot like dancing!" Rani piped up, still holding his sword uncertainly. "I'm going to get good at it, too!"

"You mean it this time? You won't chicken out?" Ru'a challenged snidely.

"I won't!" Rani proclaimed.

Makarim laughed. "Alright, that's enough for today, don't you think? Could I have you two go up and watch the shop for a bit? It's been slow today, but I still don't think it's a good idea to leave the front unmanned for too long."

Both eager to please their brother, the twins carefully put their wooden practice swords away and scrambled up the stairs. Makarim watched them go with a fond smile.

"Ru'a really likes learning this stuff, doesn't she?" he asked.

Reem smiled, setting his wooden sword against the table. "I can't say the same for Rani. Some days he's enthusiastic to learn, but as soon as we try to practice, he shuts down."

"He's a gentler soul than Ru'a. He just needs some time." Makarim offered. Reem looked down, brows drawn in thought.

"I don't want to push him into doing anything he's uncomfortable with. I suggested this initially because I thought it would be important for them to learn to defend themselves. After everything that happened several months ago… Well, it would make me feel better knowing that they knew how to protect themselves if something were to happen." Immediately Reem felt as though he had said something wrong, and with an attentive jerk he tried to redeem himself. "Not that anything _would _happen, only if… ..." He paused, abandoning that thought and all others like it. "And of course, if you don't want me to teach them anymore, I'll stop immediately. I really have their best interests in mind, but I'm not their brother, so-"

"Reem, _breathe_," Makarim said kindly. He pressed a hand to Reem's arm and gave him a reassuring squeeze. "It's not that I disapprove of you teaching them self-defense. I think it's good for them, and Ru'a loves it. It just pains me that we live in the sort of world where children would have to learn to defend themselves _at all_."

Najiya watched the men closely, and as a melancholy silence reigned over them, he sought to break it with a bright smile. "What are we all getting so worried for? Everything's been great lately, hasn't it? That new trade route opened up in Mecca, and it's been giving us a lot more business. The city has gotten back on its feet and everyone is really happy! It's a time to feel good about stuff!"

Makarim forced a smile. "I guess you're right. Maybe we're all still so wrapped up in the past that it's hard to see all of the positives."

"That's the spirit!" Najiya chirped.

"Najiya," Makarim started, regarding the parchment he was clutching in his good hand, "are you doing inventory?"

"Yeah," Najiya replied, quirking a brow. "Why?"

"Why?" Makarim echoed, laughing. "I told you, you didn't have to worry about that anymore! You two have your own business now, I can't expect you to still take the time-"

"Mako, it's _fine_," Najiya sighed with an added eye-roll. "I can do this much, at least! Besides, Reem is pretty particular with how the books are kept at our shop, and he doesn't like me messing around with them too much-"

"There's a specific order! You don't always follow the order!" Reem pointed out hotly.

"Don't be such a nitpicker!" Najiya pouted.

Reem sighed. "At any rate, we closed up shop early today. We've run short on stock. There's a caravan coming through here in the next couple of days and I'm hoping to see what they have that we might want to trade for."

Najiya snickered. "What will Haru think when he comes back and sees that we have a jewelry shop now?" he said wonderingly.

Reem chuckled. "I don't suppose he'll care too much, but he might be surprised."

Makarim's lips pulled into something of a smile, damaged around the edges but not entirely without joy. Reem and Najiya noticed his demeanor dissolve immediately and felt guilt wash over them. Talking about Haru was difficult. It wasn't as if he was gone from them forever, but he wasn't _here_. While Reem and Najiya got the comfort of enjoying each other's company every single day, Makarim had only seen Haru once since he'd left, and there was no way of knowing when Rim would ever be found. They had been together so briefly and yet it seemed so jarring for them to be apart. It was obvious every day how much worry and loneliness Makarim was carrying.

With a grunt, Makarim hoisted the box back onto his shoulder. "If you two closed up shop early, why not take it easy for the rest of the afternoon?" Makarim suggested with a smile. "I certainly won't stop you if you want to hang around here and help out, but there really isn't that much to be done… You should go spend some time alone together. It isn't often you get the house to yourself without the twins, right?"

As tempting as the proposal was and as red as Reem's face had just become, Najiya hopped off of the table, inventory parchment in hand. "I don't mind sticking around at least until the inventory's all done. Right, Reem?"

"Hmm? Ah, y-yes," Reem answered, still trying to tame his mortification.

"If you insist," Makarim laughed, rolling his shoulder for a more secure grip and then heading into the next room, a smaller, darker storage closet under the stairs. Reem and Najiya watched him go.

"You shouldn't have mentioned Haru," Reem whispered reproachfully.

"I kn_ooo_w," Najiya whined guiltily. He pressed a quick kiss to Reem's mouth before hurriedly following after Makarim, disappearing through the narrow doorway under the stairs.

The small room always smelled strongly of clay dust purely because it was so poorly ventilated. With nowhere to escape the dust caked the floor and shelves, stirred only if something was moved or set down, spiraling into the air in a suffocating cloud that would settle again somewhere nearby. Presently the smell of freshly disturbed dust was filling Najiya's nose as he entered the room, and he tried and failed to stifle a violent sneeze.

"Sorry," Najiya offered weakly, rubbing his nose. Makarim was making room for the box on a low shelf.

"You never _really _get used to it," Makarim said with a laugh. He looked over his shoulder at Najiya, brows raised. "Did you need something, Najiya?"

"Ahh," Najiya rubbed his arm, realizing he hadn't formed any sort of dialogue before going after Makarim in the first place. "Kind of…"

"Is it your arm?" Makarim asked in alarm, face suddenly twisted in concern. "Are you having pains in it again?"

"Wh- No! No, the arm's fine… Look!" Najiya raised his arm and bent the elbow several times as proof. "It's feeling a lot better. I came in here to ask if _you _were alright."

Makarim's mouth opened in apparent surprise, but for a long moment, he said nothing. Finally, he smiled, a smile as warm as is it was dismissing. "You don't have to worry about me. I won't say that I'm not missing him, but I know he'll be back. It'll just be a little lonely until then."

"I know, but…" Najiya nibbled on his bottom lip. "I hate to see you so- Mako?"

Makarim suddenly teetered and grabbed one of the shelves to catch his balance, knocking off a small vase that Najiya was quick enough to catch before it hit the floor. Najiya hastily set the vase aside.

"Are you okay? Are you feeling sick?"

Raising a trembling hand to his head, Makarim swept some hair away from his face. "I'm fine. I felt a little faint all of a sudden."

"Do you have a fever? You should lay down right away and rest!" Najiya exclaimed worriedly.

"There's no need for that," Makarim assured, taking his weight off the shelf. "It was just a dizzy spell. Besides, I have a package to pick up-"

"I'll go and get if for you!" Najiya said urgently.

"No, you won't," Makarim replied sternly. "I'm fine. I'll rest for a minute, drink some water, and then I'll be off." Noting Najiya's crestfallen expression, Makarim smiled. "Thank you for worrying, but really, I'm alright."

.

.

.

The sun was to blame. It was so incredibly hot today, Makarim had never been more thankful that water had returned to the kingdom.

He hadn't meant to worry Najiya. He had wanted to steal himself away in the storage closet because he'd felt it creeping up on him, that nauseating sensation that spread into his back and chest and sometimes made it hard to breathe. The attacks were always so fleeting that he usually had no problem riding through them without being noticed. Makarim was sure that these instances were nothing to worry about. He was working harder than usual. He had to distract himself somehow or he would go mad with worry, and working in the shop was keeping him plenty busy now that there was a slew of new customers to appeal to. He'd been working the kiln twice as hard over the last couple of months, which no doubt led these strange spells. He tried not to think too hard on it.

It had also been scorching summer, and since today was particularly hot, Makarim was convinced that the heat was the culprit. He'd spent a good portion of the afternoon unloading boxes behind the shop without taking a proper break - he was bound to suffer some kind of negative after-effects.

Was Haru staying cool somewhere? Hopefully they weren't all lumbering around in the middle of the sands in this heat. Knowing Haru, he would have found a place near a clear, cool water source and camped out there until the heat-wave was over.

Makarim was so consumed in his thoughts that he nearly passed up the small fabric shop he had been heading towards. The keeper greeted him warmly with a smile and a small parcel of high-quality dyes that Makarim enthusiastically paid for. He thanked the old man and headed for home, the idea of taking a rest sounding better and better the longer the unforgiving sun beat down on him.

Out of habit, Makarim passed by the giant mound of sand that was once Rim's palace. He made a point to look at it whenever possible, to help remind him that it really _had_ been there, and all of that really _did_ happen. Today as he looked up at the pile, he saw something unusual.

Men he didn't recognize surrounded Rim's throne, the only piece of the palace that hadn't crumbled away with the rest of the structure. Their robes were thick and dark, ill-suited for the heat, and their faces were red and sweaty as proof. They looked to be speaking avidly to one another, some of them inspecting the chair closely, some of them seeming deep in thought.

It wasn't unusual for people to take a gander at the throne from time to time; it had quickly become the town mystery, the unknown relic that sat among an unclaimed pile of sand and earth, but Makarim had never seen these men in town before, or their heavy robes.

Feeling unnerved, Makarim hurried along, leaving the unfamiliar congregation far behind him.

.

.

**Author's Note:**

heeeeey guuuuysssss. ヽ(；▽；)ノ

Finally I can get working on this! It was so much fun to revisit this world and start writing about this again. I missed it! It's hard to remember NagisaNajiya MakotoMakarim etc, after writing other non-arabic things for a few months, though. I'll get back into the swing of things pretty quick.

Sorry if this chapter was a tad uneventful? I'm setting up a tremendous amount of things, so... Yeah. A lot's going to happen really rapidly. Also: Zaki-chan! I really wanted to include her in the first one, but there wasn't any room for her. She was one of my favorite characters in High Speed!, she really doesn't get enough love!

Anyway it's great to be back writing Palace! I still need to write the last chapter of Erotomania, (I was hoping to have it done by the time I started this one,) but I was just too impatient after Eternal Summer ended and I really wanted to get a chapter of this out. I hope you guys like it, and thanks for supporting me this whole time!


	2. Chapter 2

His lungs were on fire. Before any other thought could float into Rim's tepid consciousness, of this he was absolutely certain.

It burned. Every strained breath was like pulling fire into his lungs, but it was impossible to stop. As the searing pain ran rampant through him, Rim could only breathe and accept it.

Sensation hit him before sight, trapping him in a dark box of pain and discomfort. He wasn't sure which way was up, and he felt oddly detached from his body. It was almost like when he'd been shackled in his own mind by Sharik, except he vaguely felt like he had more control. Almost like waking up from a long sleep. As the agony in his lungs began to fade, new pains began to assault his previously unfeeling body. His muscles felt as if they were made of wood, stretching and contracting painfully within his skin. Rim wanted to scream but he was too busy gasping for air. His chest and back felt much like his lungs had moments ago, ravaged by a fiery inferno.

As if he'd been released by an unseen force, Rim's eyes opened and he sucked in an enormous breath of air, immediately choking and rolling over on his side. His head was pounding and his hands were shaking uncontrollably. He continued to cough and sputter as the pain in the rest of his body began fading away as if it had been part of a bad dream. He lay like that for several minutes, working to regain control of his breathing and his limbs. It would be several more minutes until he found the clarity and strength to sit up.

Immediately Rim was met with a puzzling sight. He was sprawled out on the sands, but he had no idea where he was. There were no landmarks that he could see. Only an endless stretch of desert. The night was clear and cool, blowing a refreshing breeze over Rim's stunned form.

Rim shut his eyes and opened them again. The same scene greeted him, and he tried again and was met with the same results. How had he ended up here? He reached far back into his memory, trying to piece together the last few hours. It was difficult. The sensation was similar to passing out after drinking himself stupid and later trying to recount the previous evening. His memories were a sloppy blur.

Groaning in frustration, Rim shakily rose to his feet, nearly stumbling on the sand dune. Bracing his hands on his knees, Rim rather suddenly vomited, the bile stinging his throat. Gasping, Rim wiped his mouth, moving unsteadily away from the mess. Why did his body feel so numb and unresponsive? Trying to master himself, Rim stopped walking when he spotted a narrow body of water some feet away, the surface shimmering invitingly, reflecting the sky. Rim immediately made to it, dropping to his knees and scooping a handful of water to his lips.

The cool water instantly soothed his aching throat, and Rim sighed, sitting back to rest. He closed his eyes, breathing a deep sigh. What had happened? Why was he out here in the middle of no where? He wasn't even sure which way was home. A sudden pang in his chest made his eyes snap open. _Home_. The palace? What had happened at the palace?

A flickering memory surfaced, and Rim looked down at himself. The front of his robes were badly torn and soaked in blood. Rim inhaled breath so suddenly that he succumbed to another coughing fit.

He remembered everything. He and Sharik had been separated. He, Hafa, Makarim, Reem and Najiya had made their way underground to free Hafa of his curse. They'd almost been killed. And then…

Rim placed a hand over his chest, feeling for the hole that should have been there. He'd been impaled. Even now, the horrible pain of it was embedded in his brain, still fresh. He pressed his fingertips against his skin. There was nothing. His skin was smooth and free of abrasions. How could that be possible?

Taking another drink from the river, Rim stood up and surveyed his surroundings. Still unsure on which direction to travel, Rim began walking East, following the moon. The water puzzled him as well. Although he'd never been sure how it all worked, he knew that some time ago, he'd allowed Sharik to trick him into removing all of the natural water from the land. Yet here he was, walking adjacent to an abundance of water stretching out further than his eyes could see. A familiar guilt flared within him. He'd taken away the water to make Hafa suffer after he'd cursed him.

Rim stopped. He glanced up at the sky, eyes wide in realization. _The curse_. To be forever trapped on the sands, doomed to wander without ever finding his way. Rim looked back down at his blood-soaked robes. He had died. He took his final breath in Hafa's arms, but still he woke here, in the middle of no where.

It seemed impossible, but Rim was never one for second-guessing the impossible.

.

.

.

Hafa and his company woke early and thanked their generous host before leaving.

Maha disappeared with the promise of returning soon, and as the caravan arrived, the remaining three spread out and purchased supplies. Once Hafa was satisfied with the amount of food he'd purchased, he sought out and asked several villagers if they'd seen Rim; each and every one admitted they had not, no matter how long they stared at the drawing. Hafa knew it was a slim chance that Rim would have met anyone along his journey, but still he felt dejected whenever someone confirmed his worries.

When Hafa rejoined with Aini and Ghazi, the three of them loaded their newly-bought supplies onto their animals and agreed to kill time while they waited for Maha to return with a report.

"Did you two notice anything strange about the sun this morning?" Ghazi asked as they walked. Aini cocked his head curiously.

"The sun...?"

"Yeah." Ghazi continued, unperturbed by her companions obvious confusion, "When I woke up, it seemed like the sun rose earlier than it was meant to. I didn't think much of it at first, but it's been nagging at me all day."

"I didn't notice." Aini admitted.

"Hafa?" Ghazi implored. She knew that he rarely offered his opinion without being prompted. Hafa thought about it and then shook his head.

"I wasn't awake when the sun rose, so I don't know."

Truthfully, what Ghazi said made sense to him in a way he couldn't easily explain. He'd felt that way several times over the last few months, not necessarily about the sun, but the passage of time in particular. He'd assumed his newer, ignorant mortal viewpoint was to blame, but now that Ghazi had mentioned it, he was starting to feel uneasy.

While he was lost in thought, Hafa hadn't noticed the young man that was nearing them on the street, and he barely registered when the two of them collided shoulder to shoulder until he heard the stranger speak.

"Ahh, sorry about that!" Amber eyes squinted apologetically and the young man nodded to them politely before hurrying off. Hafa was stuck in a dumb silence, following the stranger's back with his eyes.

"That looked like..." Ghazi's eyes were wide; she was also staring.

"The spitting image of Siraj al Din, right?" Aini finished for her, and Ghazi firmly nodded. There was no doubt about that. Fiery orange hair, burning amber eyes, same nose and mouth... Forget family resemblance, that boy purely looked like a younger version of Siraj al Din.

"Should we go after him?" Ghazi asked. "Should we ask him?"

"It's the first lead of any kind we've found. I think we should." Aini answered.

Hafa agreed, but he was distracted. Something didn't feel quite right. He had been momentarily jarred by the striking resemblance to their friend that he hadn't realized how strange it was that he'd been run into in the first place. The street was plenty wide enough to have allowed him to pass without such an encounter.

A jolt of fear struck Hafa as he realized. The ring. It was gone. The Seal of Solomon was no longer resting on his finger.

"He took the ring." Hafa said furiously, turning back to search for the orange-haired thief. He was already gone, conveniently lost among the crowds and stands.

"W-what! A thief?" Aini exclaimed, aghast. Ghazi wasted no time, decisively starting off in the direction the thief had gone.

"We spread out, find that guy, surround him and get it back!" she commanded, and the other two nodded and split up, hurrying into the crowd.

Hafa refused to let him get away. He didn't care about the power the ring had or the history carved within it. It was Makarim's ring. Makarim had entrusted him with it, and the thought of it in someone else's hands…

Slipping into a crowd of shoppers, Hafa began his search.

.

.

.

It was likely the thief had retreated to the back streets. Ghazi wasn't sure if he knew he was being pursued or whether he was just in the habit of making stealthy getaways, but regardless he was incredibly evasive. It would be hard to close in on him while still trying to remain inconspicuous.

A flash of a teal keffiyeh covering orange hair disappeared behind a corner, and Ghazi quickly followed, hoping the other two were closing in from the other sides. She wasn't quite sure what to do if she caught the thief without backup.

Around the corner and up several sets of stone steps Ghazi spotted him. He didn't seem to have noticed her, walking along with his hands in his pockets and a spring in his step; he was eyeing the houses on his left and sticking close to the narrow pathway that wound around the district, not leaving Ghazi any space to confront him without being noticeable about it. She followed behind him at a distance, looking furtively around for Hafa or Aini. Neither of them in sight, she tried to decide what to do. If she let him roam too far he might escape them, so it was best to act immediately. Reaching her hand into her robe, her fingers touched a curved blade, previously belonging to her brother. She had never had to use it, nor did she care to. In this situation, however, it appeared necessary. If she could just take him by surprise and threaten him into returning the ring, she wouldn't have to use it and both of them could walk away unharmed. But what if he attempted to fight back...?

Swallowing her nervousness, Ghazi firmly grabbed the hilt of her knife and picked up her pace. He still didn't seem to notice her, whistling to himself carelessly. Ghazi tossed a glance around them and pulled the knife just when she was nearly upon him. All she would need to do is press the tip to his back and demand the ring returned...

Before she could follow through, the thief lurched forward, hands slapping the ground and his feet flying out, knocking Ghazi off her feet. Dazed, Ghazi sat up and saw the thief running the way they'd come without so much as a glance backwards. Ghazi jumped to her feet and made to go after him, but stopped when she saw that they were about to pass under a large stone archway. A wooden ladder was hitched to the side of it, currently drawn up to allow people to pass underneath.

In a wild fit of inspiration Ghazi flung her knife at the ladder. With precision she wasn't aware she possessed - or perhaps her panic was partly to blame - her knife connected with the rope keeping the ladder tethered in place, and it came crashing down to the stone below, hitting the thief squarely on his shoulders behind his neck. With a wail he was brought down, ladder and rope landing neatly on top of him.

Momentarily shocked that her outlandish maneuver had worked, Ghazi steeled herself and rushed over to the fallen thief, who was busy rubbing the back of his neck and groaning in pain.

"The ring you stole!" Ghazi barked at him, holding out her hand. "Give it back _right now_!"

The thief glowered, amber eyes sweeping up to meet hers in defiance. All at once his expression was wiped blank, eyes wide and mouth wider. Ghazi couldn't imagine why he looked so surprised, but firmly held her ground.

"A… girl…?" the young man murmured softly, and Ghazi felt panic rise in his throat. Her hand instinctively flew to the top of her head; there was nothing covering her. She looked around wildly only to find Hafa's keffiyeh on the ground several feet away. It looked as if it had slipped off when she'd been tripped and she hadn't even noticed.

"I… Uhh…." Before Ghazi could muster up anything helpful, she felt hands grab her shoulders firmly from behind, shoving her to her knees. She let out a startled yelp, trying to look back at whomever was holding her in place but her head was grabbed next, keeping her neck bent uncomfortably. From her position, all she could see was the thief, being forced into a similar stance by several men, some of them with swords dangling from their sides.

"A woman, and she is uncovered!" Shouted someone from behind her, and Ghazi felt her blood run cold.

"She was fraternizing with this thieving vermin. I saw him milling around the shopping plaza earlier. He has stolen here before, I remember his face!" cried another, holding the thief's arms behind his back. The men's hands on her shoulders increased their grip, shoving her down so hard she was forced on her hands and knees. Her face burned in humiliation and anger. Both of those emotions evaporated when she heard someone behind her unsheathe their sword.

"A thief and a filthy blasphemer. There is only one fate for those who would bring so much sin to our village."

.

.

.

Hafa and Aini had found each other in the square, both of them having seen not a trace of the thief or Ghazi. They had been hoping to create a triangle of sorts and trap him somewhere in the middle, but obviously he'd gone a direction they hadn't been counting on.

"Should we go back? I'm worried, what if Ghazi found him before we did…?" Aini asked as they walked. Hafa purposely steered them up a row of steps instead of heading back to the square.

"We didn't check the upper district." he said, feeling a baseless concern begin to ferment in his belly.

Climbing two more sets of stairs, Hafa and Aini noticed something of a stir. There were people watching something with interest, and voices could be heard loudly from below a large stone archway that connected the homes above them. Hafa was reminded of the day he'd met Najiya, when the two of them fought through a crowd to see the city guards beating a pleading old man.

Feeling a nostalgic uneasy grow within him, Hafa quickly made his way through the gawking people, Aini close to his side. What they saw on the other side of the crowd caused both of their hearts to plummet. Ghazi was pinned to the ground by several men, one of them brandishing a sword over her head and speaking loud words that neither of the men cared to hear.

Without hesitation, Hafa pulled a sword concealed within his pants and rushed forward. His blade connected with the ring-leader's back, causing him to shout out in anguish and drop to the ground, his sword following suit. The men holding Ghazi turned in surprise, none of them having expected anything in the form of rebellion; Hafa and Aini quickly knocked them off her, all but one, who produced a knife in a panic and pressed it to Ghazi's throat.

"Drop your weapons!" the man ordered shrilly, and begrudgingly Hafa and Aini complied, tossing their blades to the ground. As soon as they were unarmed they were quickly flanked. The man holding Ghazi dragged her roughly to her feet.

"Blasphemers, all of them!" shouted the man furiously, spit flying. "Never has there been such disorder among us!"

"Excuse me, please," Aini suddenly spoke, gaining the attention of everyone around them. They all seemed to be shocked that he was speaking out after having been declared a heathen. "There's been a misunderstanding. You see, we're not from around here-"

"As if that is any excuse! In fact, that makes it even more deplorable! You come into our midst, thieving and sinning-"

"We haven't stolen _anything_!" Ghazi exclaimed angrily, and received a sudden slap in the face from the man restraining her, the sound of it resounding throughout the street. Hafa's expression darkened and he fought against his captor vigorously, two more men hurrying forward to hold him still. From behind them, the thief also struggled, shouting something angrily that was immediately muffled when his face was shoved into the ground.

"How _dare _you speak while a man speaks!" the man barked.

"Then allow a man to speak on her behalf!" Aini pleaded, his voice clear and strong. "We are travelers from far away. The woman you disrespect is the sister of royalty, a _princess_, and any harm done to her will incur the wrath of her entire kingdom!"

It was a brilliant bargain, but it was lost on them. The men laughed, and Ghazi was pulled around, her back pressed to the man's front, his blade pressing against her pale throat. "A princess, you say? Perhaps in your kingdom, but here, she's just a woman, and her life is worth less than livestock in my eyes."

Hafa's eyes flicked to the thief. As the men securing him watched the spectacle, he was doing something with his hand. It was hard to see, but it looked as if his fingers were reaching for his necklace, the attached pendant lying on the ground near his shoulder. What was he trying to do…?

Hafa had his answer when the thief's fingers finally grasped the pendant. A sudden whooshing sound caused all eyes to look to the thief and his captors; it looked as if a raging cyclone had enveloped the thief, sending the surrounding men flying in several different directions. The wind howled and whipped wildly as if defending him, and Hafa felt several hands leave his arms and shoulders as people started to scream and flee the scene in terror. Ghazi took advantage of the confusion and pulled away from her captor, elbowing him in the stomach with all of her might, dropping him to his knees. Hissing in pain but still coherent, the man sought to grab her ankle as she made for Hafa and Aini.

As if it had emerged from the ground beneath them a tunnel of wind suddenly surrounded the three on all sides, knocking everyone and everything back. Hafa tried to speak but his voice was lost to the howling that encompassed them. A hand circled his wrist and he looked up to see the thief staring at him with a determinedly set gaze, mouthing words that were also drowned out by the vicious wind. In his other hand he held Ghazi's wrist firmly, and he motioned for Aini to grab on to someone. Hesitatingly, Aini complied, grabbing Hafa's arm.

Hafa realized what the thief had said to him just as they were all picked up off the ground, the wind around them screaming in their ears and flinging them skyward.

"_Hold on_."

.

.

.

"Najiya, be careful! That must be tremendously heavy!" Reem said worriedly as Najiya lifted a water-filled vase into their wooden cart. Najiya carefully set the vase down and exhaled a sigh.

"Reeeem, how many times have I told you that my arm is healing fine? I can handle this much, at least." Najiya replied with a grin. Reem frowned disapprovingly.

"Just because your arm is feeling better doesn't necessarily mean straining it is safe to do. The physician projected that your arm would be healed in six months. It's only been _five-_"

"_But_ the physician _also _said that I might heal faster than that, too. He took the bindings off, didn't he?" Najiya giggled at the scowl Reem was leveling him, responding by carefully stretching his arm over his head. "I promise I'm not straining myself, or doing anything I know I can't handle. You worry too much, Reem."

Reem sighed deeply and dunked another vase into the stream, pulling it out once it was full. "I worry because I can't stand seeing you hurt," he said seriously, setting the vase in the sand next to his feet. "If your arm doesn't heal properly and there was something I could have done or said to prevent it…"

Arms suddenly slithered around Reem's sides, surprising him. He turned to see Najiya clinging to him, looking up at him with a rosy face and a pleased smile.

"Thank you, Reem. I'm sorry for arguing. You're just trying to make sure I'm careful, right?"

Reem smiled apologetically. "Well… Maybe I am worrying a bit too much. It's your body, so I should trust you to know what your limits are."

"It's okay. Sometimes it doesn't hurt to have reminders." Najiya closed his eyes and stood on tiptoe, meeting Reem's mouth with his own. Reem easily dissolved into the kiss until his common sense kicked in, and he gently eased them apart, casting a look around.

"_Najiya_! It's broad daylight, and we're right outside the city!"

Najiya followed Reem's lead and looked around them, his expression deadpan. "I don't _seeee _anyone..." His tone was mischievous and moreover _dangerous_; Reem had been the victim of that voice more times than he cared to count, but kissing outside of the city next to the most popular water source was something he couldn't possibly concede to, no matter how much he _wanted _to.

Just as he was about to start his five-part explanation as to why smooching in public was a bad idea, Najiya noticed something over Reem's shoulder and frowned.

"Reem, what's that?"

Reem followed Najiya's gaze and turned, seeing a train of dark horses traveling their way over the sand. It was hard at this distance to make out the riders, but they didn't appear to be traveling with wares, and Reem could distinctly see the faint glimmer of steel reflected by the mid-day sun.

"I'm not sure," he answered as Najiya removed his hands from Reem, shielding his eyes from the sun to get a better look.

"Soldiers?"

"Maybe. But from where? What are they doing all the way out here?"

As if their conversation had been heard, the head of the procession pointed their way, and their direction shifted ever-so-slightly. Reem's heart lept to his throat.

"We're going back. We need to hurry, but we can't run or make any unnecessary movements."

"Reem….?"

"It's okay," Reem said with a reassuring smile. "Let's just load what we've got and head back."

Glancing worriedly back at the quickly advancing train, Najiya nodded and helped to grab the rest of the water-filled vases and load them into the cart. Reem attached their horse to the cart and began leading it back. He felt as if needles were prickling his back and shoulders as they walked, and he couldn't say he was surprised when he heard a commanding voice call out to them from behind.

"You there! Stop!"

Reem came to a halt and gently pulled the horse's head harness to stop the animal. "..._Shit_."

"Reem? What do we do…?" Najiya's voice was hushed and frightened. He'd never had a reason to trust authoritative figures or men who carried swords, especially after all that had transpired several months ago. Now that they were clearly being accosted, his fear intensified ten-fold.

Reem turned toward the advancing company, stepping in front of Najiya. He grabbed Najiya's hand behind his back and the blonde pressed against Reem's back, breathing deeply.

"Just let me do all the talking. Everything's fine." Reem assured in a low voice.

It was several moments before they found themselves surrounded by men on steeds. The gesture was meant to be intimidating even though none of their weapons were drawn. Despite this, Reem greeted the unfriendly entourage with a smile.

"What can we do for you?" he asked them kindly. A man atop a horse moved through the circle and stopped in front of Reem. His armor was slightly altered from the rest, indicating that he was a higher rank, possibly a general or advisor. His light-colored hair was cut short and on the right side of his skull he had a large, star-shaped scar, speaking volumes of his experience in battle.

"Do you live in the city?" the man asked. Reem saw no reason at this point to lie about anything.

"Yes, sir."

"Who governs the city?" came the man's next question. Reem wasn't sure how to answer. It was so much more complicated than he was likely expecting.

"Uhh…"

"You have a leader here, yes?" the man barked impatiently, "We request an audience with him. Go and tell him that Sultan Akram Ibn-Zafir, ruler of the Kingdom Sama Al-Kah wishes to speak with him on urgent business."

Reem knew well the motions of war and battle, and already he was feeling uncomfortable. The city was in no fit state to receive such visitors, but he knew that lying would do them no good. As things were, he could only try and get as much information out of the conversation as he could and pray he and Najiya weren't detained or killed.

"The city governs itself, sir," Reem answered. "As it turns out, we've found no reason to need a ruler. So I'm afraid if you'd like to speak to someone in charge, you'll have to arrange a meeting with the citizens."

Reem's words immediately sparked murmuring among the ranks. Behind him, Reem could feel Najiya's grip on his vest intensify as the tension rose.

Another rider moved into view, the soldiers wordlessly making a path for him as if they were being pushed aside by an unseen force. The man was older than the general and had dark red hair that was mostly hidden under an impressive turban. His horse had an elaborate umbrella attached to the saddle, and the man's robes and jewelry were of the finest quality. Reem could feel his nose curl. He disliked the Sultan on sight, but kept his expression as cool as he could manage.

"Thank you, Gohar," the Sultan said, and the general nodded and allowed the Sultan to pass him. The man halted his steed two feet from where Reem and Najiya stood, looking down at them with a smile.

"Do you speak the truth?" Akram asked them patiently. "There is no one to govern this city of yours? How do you all manage?"

"With all due respect, we're doing better now than we have in some time. Everyone helps each other, and because of this, we're prospering more than we ever could have before."

The Sultan's eyes trailed upward in thought, and he nodded to himself as if he'd just heard something thought-provoking. "I see. Well, that makes matters complicated."

"If you'll forgive my asking, what business did you have in the city? Perhaps I may be able to help." Reem said.

The general, Gohar, moved forward reflexively. "That is none of your concern."

Reem fell immediately silent. He was pushing their luck as it was. He hoped that whatever the men had just learned had at least stalled them long enough for he and Najiya to be able to return to the city and warn everyone.

"You've been rather quiet, haven't you?" the Sultan said, and for the smallest of moments Reem was incredibly confused until he realized that the man's eyes were trained behind him, on Najiya. The pit of Reem's stomach twisted restlessly; he found the Sultan's gaze to be particularly offensive. Something about the way he was looking at Najiya set his blood boiling.

"I apologize," Najiya said, his voice lacking its usual zest.

The Sultan smiled at Najiya warmly. Reem wanted to hit him. "Silence is nothing to apologize for. Sometimes it's best not to speak unless you are spoken to, yes?"

"Y-yes," Najiya replied.

Akram tilted his head to better view Najiya, and Najiya averted his eyes. "Why so shy, little sow-thistle?" he asked, "I certainly didn't mean to frighten you."

Reem felt anger bubble violently in his stomach. The Sultan continued. "Your hair strikes me. Like gold or the shining sun. And your skin is so pale… Simply put, you look incredibly exotic. Surely I'm not the first to have made mention."

"Ahh…" Najiya swallowed his unease, opening his mouth to begrudgingly thank the man before Reem boldly interrupted, voice spiked with fury.

"Such an observation might be considered _rude _by some," he said curtly, and no sooner had the words left his mouth did Gohar draw his sword and point it at Reem.

"You'll do well to keep in mind that you are addressing the _Sultan Akram Ibn-Zafir_. You will speak with respect." Akram raised a hand, prompting Gohar to lower his aim.

"He's quite right, I was being far too forward," the Sultan said, flashing an apologetic smile at Reem and Najiya. "There are other matters to attend to, anyway. We've come a long way and are in need of rest. We wouldn't dream of imposing on your people, so for now I hope you'll all excuse us if he set up camp outside your walls."

Unsure if the Sultan desired a response or not, Reem settled on a decidedly heated expression, but it didn't seem to phase the man in the least. He turned to his general, nodded to him, and Gohar shouted orders to the ranks. In a flurry of hooves and sand, the company dispersed, forming another train and galloping to the north.

Najiya let out a tremendous sigh and Reem felt him slump against his back. "What was all of that about?!" he cried as Reem turned around to face him.

"I don't know. Are you alright, though?" Reem asked worriedly. He knew that neither of them had been touched, but watching the Sultan stare at Najiya with such undetermined intentions felt almost like watching Najiya be manhandled.

Najiya sputtered a laugh. "Yeah, I'm fine. That guy was creepy, wasn't he? And he called me _sow-thistle_…" He pulled a disgusted face.

Reem brushed some golden strands away from Najiya's face. "Because of your hair color, I'd wager. I supposed I'd never thought of it, but your hair is the very same color." He sighed and pulled Najiya to him in a one-armed hug. "Honestly, I couldn't stand hearing him speak to you. That man has something planned. I'm not sure why he's here, but I'm positive he's _not _here on a mission of peace."

He released Najiya and glanced back north, where he could see them still, looking as if they were preparing to set up a camp site. Najiya frowned in their direction.

"They left us alive though, right?" he said hopefully. "If they were planning something terrible, don't you think they would have tried to kill us so we couldn't warn anyone?"

Reem removed his eye glasses and carefully wiped them on his vest; at some point they had been dusted with sand. "Not necessarily. It may just mean that they aren't worried about us telling anyone, and that might be far worse." He replaced his glasses and shook his head. "Let's head back. I don't want to start a mass panic, but people need to be aware of what's going on. I think we should talk to Makarim first, and see what he thinks we should do next."

Najiya nodded resolutely, grabbing their horse's harness and gently spurring it into motion.

.

.

.

The breeze was hot but subdued. Hafa's throat was dry. Upon opening his eyes, he was immediately reminded of the countless times he woken like this in the desert, alive but just as thirsty as before he'd perished. For a sick moment he forgot that those days were far behind him, but his most recent memories flooded back and he struggled to sit up, his head spinning.

His surroundings looked familiar. They had passed this way when heading toward the village the day before. Even now he could just make out the village on the horizon, and when he turned his head he could see the mysterious palace looming closer than before. From this distance he could make out small spires rising from the structure, battered with age.

Hafa attempted to call out for his companions and immediately regretted it. His throat was not only dry but irritated with sand. Erupting into a coughing fit, Hafa spat several times, trying to rid himself of the irritants. He must have swallowed some sand in the bizarre cyclone or when he'd landed.

"H-Hafa!" Aini's voice piped up from behind him, and Hafa glanced back once he'd stopped coughing. Aini was struggling to stand, brushing himself off with a groan.

"Ghazi…?" Hafa gasped, looking around. His eyes quickly fell on her, half-buried in sand, her face thankfully unobstructed, breathing softly. Aini saw her at the exact same moment and hurried to her, gently attempting to wake her up.

The last person unaccounted for was quickly spotted, groaning and rubbing the back of his head. With no regard to his own possible injuries, Hafa stood up and swiftly approached the thief.

"What did you do?" Hafa demanded hotly, his voice raspy from his earlier episode. "What _was _all of that?"

The thief opened his eyes and shot a glare at Hafa, still rubbing his head. "What do you _mean_, 'what did I do'?" he snapped. "I saved you all! I've never even taken other people with me before, so be grateful you're alive!"

"The ring," Hafa reached out his hand expectantly, eyes blazing. "Give it back."

The young man cast his eyes away, frowning. "I must have lost it during the trip, I don't have it anymore." he mumbled. "You're _welcome_, by the way!" he added crossly.

Icy cold shock jolted through Hafa's body, and for a moment he distinctly felt like he couldn't breathe. A second later Ghazi's voice tore through the silence like lightning before the thunder.

"For your sake, _you had better be lying_!" she roared. She was already on her feet, Aini helping her to maintain her balance. "That ring is important to us! If you have it, you _will _give it back!"

The thief stared at Ghazi in surprise for several moments before sighing in irritation and slipping his hand in his vest pocket, pulling the ring out and extending it to Hafa. Disbelievingly, Hafa took it, inspecting it closely. Sure enough, it was the Seal of Solomon. Hafa breathed an enormous sigh of relief. He mentally reprimanded himself for giving up hope so easily.

"It doesn't even look like it's worth that much anyway," the thief muttered, looking particularly chastised. "Aside from that one little gem, it looks like a piece of junk."

"It doesn't matter, it isn't yours in the first place," Aini pointed out, helping to brush some sand from Ghazi's hair.

Hafa carefully slipped the ring back onto his middle finger, and then turned his gaze to the oval gold pendant hanging from the thief's neck. It glinted prettily in the sunlight. In its center was a small orange jewel, the same size and shape as the Jewel of Water in Solomon's ring. Hafa recounted what Maha had told him some time ago, when he and Makarim had found themselves in Solomon's tomb. The ring originally had four jewels set in it, plucked out and scattered by Solomon; jewels that controlled the elements of animal, spirit, wind and water.

"How did you save us before?" Hafa asked, pulling his eyes away from the pendant. "That was you controlling the wind, right?"

"I don't have to tell you anything!" the thief responded immediately, his expression pulling into a pout.

"Thank you for saving us," Ghazi put in, kneeling down close to the orange-haired thief. Contrasting her earlier outrage, now she wore a kind smile. "And for returning the ring, too. I don't think a bad person would have done those things."

Staring at Ghazi with a slackened jaw and rose-dusted cheeks, the thief coughed into his hand, looking away from her. "Well, it was kinda my fault all of that happened... I'm not heartless, or anything..."

"How did you do that trick with the wind? It was amazing!" Ghazi continued, and Hafa and Aini exchanged a puzzled glance. It was impossible to tell if she was being sincere or if she was using some brand of mystical feminine charm to get him to open up, but either way, it appeared to be working.

"I... Can't really explain it," the thief crossed his arms, deliberately covering his pendant.

"It's that gem in your pendant, isn't it?" Hafa asked dryly. The thief shot Hafa a surprised look, and Ghazi and Aini followed suit when they realized Hafa has struck on something. "I saw you grab it right before everything went crazy."

A short silence followed. The thief gripped the pendant in his hand, and for a moment, Hafa feared he would summon the wind again and whisk himself away. However, everything remained still, and the thief sighed.

"Yeah. The gem controls wind, or something like that. It's been in my family since forever. It's useful when you want to make a quick getaway." His eyes flashed upward, regarding Hafa with a fiery expression. "But stealing it from me won't do you any good, only I can use it!"

"We're not stealing anything from anyone," Aini said wearily. "Even if we wanted to, it's not like we even have swords to threaten you with. We dropped them back in town."

"Ahh, that's right! And Hafa, I dropped your keffiyeh…" Ghazi said in a deeply apologetic tone. Hafa shook his head.

"Doesn't matter."

"I think the bigger problem is that our animals and our supplies and equipment are back there, as well. There's no way we can go back and get them now." Aini pointed out uneasily.

"Miss Maha can grab our stuff for us when she gets back." Hafa said, sitting back down on the sand. After everything had calmed down and the ring was safely back in his possession, he felt exhaustion overtake him.

"I don't know who your friend is, but I don't think they'll take kindly to another stranger coming in and taking a bunch of stuff from under their noses," the thief drawled, resting his chin in his hand, his legs crossed.

Ghazi smiled. "Don't worry about that. Anyway, I'm Ghazwa, and this is Haru and Aini. We were just passing through when you bumped into us."

The thief laughed, a bit awkwardly. "Sorry for 'bumping'." He sighed deeply. "I'm Mumyi al Din. Just Mumyi is fine, though."

Collectively, Hafa, Ghazi and Aini exchanged a meaningful look. Mumyi must have noticed, because when they looked back at him his lips were drawn into a confused frown.

"Sorry for asking such a weird question," Aini started hesitatingly, "but… Are you related to a Siraj al Din, by any chance?"

The look on Mumyi's face could only be described as utterly dumbfounded. The color seemed to drain from his face altogether and his eyes were blown wide, leaving him looking as if he'd just witnessed the rising of the dead. His mouth opened and he tried to speak, but only a hoarse whisper emerged. Hafa strained to listen.

"...You know about my brother…?"

"Your _brother_!" Ghazi gasped. "Have you seen him recently? We've been searching for word of him for _months_!"

Mumyi turned his stricken expression to Ghazi, his brow knotting in disbelief. "He's… _alive_?" came his next question, and all three were thrown into a horrified silence. For several moments, no one quite knew what to say. There were so many questions that needed to be asked, but all they could concern themselves with was the look of incredulous disbelief in Mumyi's eyes.

Hafa's eyes caught movement down the slope, coming from the direction of the village. He stood up and shielded his eyes against the sun, trying to make out the figures that appeared to be coming their way.

"Who is it? Are they coming after us?" Aini asked in sudden concern, following Hafa's gaze.

"I can't tell," Hafa admitted. It didn't look like a large group; in fact, the closer it got, it seemed very small.

Mumyi stood up, his fingers closed around his pendant. His expression was hard to discern. "If they're coming, I can take us somewhere else." he offered softly. Hafa glanced back at the approaching party, finally seeing a figure. Only one figure, in fact. Now that they were close enough, Hafa recognized his own camel and the two steeds belonging to Aini and Ghazi. The figure was waving at them, leading the animals.

"It's Akilah!" Ghazi suddenly exclaimed, running to meet her. Mumyi released his hold on his pendant, arm swinging limply at his side.

Hafa looked at Aini questioningly. In reply, Aini's lips formed a thin smile. "Go and check in with Akilah, I'll stay with Mumyi... ...maybe answer some questions he might have..." he said gently. Mumyi barely budged, his eyes trained on the ground. Hafa nodded and followed after Ghazi.

.

.

.

The day was at its absolute hottest as Akilah explained how she'd come to possess their animals and supplies, and even more importantly, how she managed to sneak away with the aforementioned things without being stopped. She'd seen the damage done by Mumyi's pendant after she'd heard the commotion from across town, and spoke to some who had seen the event transpire. She knew immediately the visitors they spoke of. So much of the town was in a panic over the insane display that Akilah decided to take advantage of the confusion and slip out with their things to try and find them. She hadn't witnessed their aerial exit, however, so fortunately for everyone involved they hadn't landed too far from town.

"That's still a big risk, coming out here for us. If anyone finds out…" Ghazi started worriedly.

Akilah smiled and shook her head. "You were all so kind to me yesterday, I couldn't live with myself if I didn't return the favor. They were calling you dangerous heathens… I knew that couldn't be right." Her eyes drew downward sadly. "I'm sorry… I couldn't find your other camel. Someone may have already stolen it."

"Other camel…?" Ghazi asked in confusion.

"That wasn't really a camel, so don't worry about it." Hafa said offhandedly, and to his right Ghazi made a soft 'oh!' noise of realization.

Hafa glanced back up the slope to see Aini and Mumyi still talking. Mumyi looked somewhat more composed; he almost looked vexed now, his mouth opening to talk only every now and then. As the girls chatted, Hafa looked back at the sky to try and gauge the time. According to the sun, it had been several hours since he'd heard from Maha. He'd asked her to scope out the Palace, a rather unobtrusive task, not to mention exceedingly simple. She had already expressed her dislike of places associated with Solomon, so Hafa assumed she could be back quickly. Why was it taking so long?

"I'm worried about Miss Maha," Hafa said suddenly, causing both girls to fall silent.

"Worried…?" Ghazi asked, her voice low in an attempt to be subtle, but it only ended up sounding more suspicious. "What do you mean?"

"She's been gone for hours. What I asked of her shouldn't be taking so long."

Ghazi thought about it, nibbling on the tip of her thumb. "I guess not… She might be doing other things, though. I mean, she's a-" Ghazi stopped herself, Akilah blinking at them with wide, confused eyes, "-ahh, you know. She can do whatever she wants, so maybe she's just taking a break?"

"She's never done anything like that before. She's honest. If she was going to go somewhere she would have told us." Hafa was surprised at his own faith in Maha, but over the last several months the jann had never once given him a reason to distrust her. He recalled enough about being a djinn to remember how often they could lie and manipulate, but Maha wasn't like that. Even after her lengthy imprisonment, she'd been loyal to them and helped when she could.

"I suppose that's true… And besides, we told her we'd be in town, and we've had a slight change of plans..."

"Is this another friend of yours?" Akilah asked curiously. Ghazi smiled and nodded.

Hafa eyed the ring on his finger. He hated to do it, but it was the easiest way to find out where she was. He glanced behind them at the palace, far off in the distance. She was supposed to be somewhere over there. He knew they could travel that way and try and meet up with her, but Hafa had a bad feeling about that. He'd asked Maha to investigate it in the first place because he'd felt uneasy when passing by. The dread he felt when looking at the palace was still present, overpowering him the longer he stared.

"I'm going to call her with the ring," Hafa said decisively, adjusting it on his finger.

Ghazi tilted her head. "Can you even do something like that?"

"I'm not going to summon her or bind her or anything like that. It'll just be a simple call that should guide her to where we are. Under normal circumstances that would be a really bad idea, but we know she isn't hostile so it should be fine." he said stoically.

The sound of two pairs of feet sliding down the slope behind them gained Hafa's attention, and both Aini and Mumyi walked over to the small group. Mumyi looked exhausted but calmer, though he was avoiding everyone's eyes. Aini smiled brightly at Akilah.

"Sorry I'm late to thank you, but thank you so much for bringing our rides and our things! You're a life saver!"

"Aini," Ghazi placed a hand on Aini's shoulder, stopping their back and forth before it could begin, "Hafa is going to try calling Maha back. She's been gone for hours now, so…."

"I was wondering about that," Aini remarked. "It's been an awfully long time, it's unlike her."

"I'll be right back, then," Hafa said, starting up the slope. "I'll just be on the other side."

As he went, he heard Akilah ask confusedly where he was going, but he was unable to hear Ghazi's reply. Honestly, he didn't care too much if the other two met Maha. He couldn't think of a reason why either of them would be anything but surprised, and it wasn't as if djinn were completely unheard of in this part of the world. Although humans didn't often get to see them, it was more or less believed that they existed, and they were blamed for a plethora of misfortunes in the human world, whether they were responsible for them or not.

Still, out of consideration for Maha, Hafa stopped on the other side of the slope. If she wanted to meet their new friends, he supposed it would be up to her.

Hafa concentrated on what he wanted to happen. He pictured Maha in his mind and out loud he requested that she come forward. He felt the ring grow warm on his finger, but nothing appeared to be happening. He tried again, wording things a little differently, but still nothing. Although the Seal was warm enough to risk burning him, Maha didn't appear. Hafa's concern grew. The ring was doing its job, it was working. If Maha wasn't returning, then…

Climbing up the slope as quickly as possible, Hafa reached the top and braced his hands on his knees, out of breath. The company below noticed him immediately.

"Hafa, where is she?" Aini asked, suddenly worried.

Hafa took a moment to gain his breath back; he was still tired from their earlier scuffle and getaway flight and he'd just spent far too much energy sprinting up the slope.

"Something's wrong," he finally managed to get out. "It won't work. I can't call for her."

Both Ghazi and Aini looked up at Hafa with wide eyes. "What does that mean, exactly?" Ghazi asked.

"Wherever she is, I can't reach her without her true name. Which means she's probably in the Other World."

"What are you all talking about?" Mumyi asked in authentic confusion. He went momentarily ignored.

Ghazi frowned. "Why would she be there all of a sudden?"

"Something might have injured her. Djinn can't heal on the mortal plane, they have to go back to their realm to recover their essence." Hafa sucked in a deep breath, and carefully started sliding down the slope to meet the others to decide what to do. As he slid, he realized that everyone had begun speaking all at once, their eyes trained on the sky. He planted his feet firmly, stopping his descent. Mumyi had fallen backwards in shock, and Akilah was hiding behind Ghazi.

Before Hafa could turn around, he was grabbed roughly by his shoulders and lifted into the air so suddenly that his vision swam and his stomach tightened into a sickening ball. Far below, his companions were yelling for him, but their cries were drowned out by the beating of massive wings from above. In no time at all, Hafa was flying high in the sky, wind howling in his ears for the second time that day. The strong talons that held him were digging into his shoulders, carrying him as a bird of prey would carry its small furry victim. It was hard to breathe. Hafa managed to turn his head and see a second massive bird - an eagle, it seemed - flying alongside the first.

They were flying so fast Hafa almost couldn't take a breath. Raising his arms was difficult with the eagle's long talon's holding him in place, but as he squinted ahead, trying to make out their destination, he realized they weren't far off.

The palace without an entrance was rapidly coming into view. Hafa lost consciousness as soon as the eagles began their downward descent.

.

.

**Author's Note:**

I am so, so sorry for the delay. Oh gosh.

Some stuff happened that sort of killed my desire to write. I didn't write for weeks and when I finally started writing again, I was sticking to non-consequential shorter pieces to get my creative juices flowing again. I came down with pneumonia recently, and I'm not sure how but being sick brought it all back and I was suddenly writing like a mad person.

Sousuke's in the next chapter! (And oh yeah and the general guy was indeed Coach Sasabe, heh) I'm really excited because I've had this particular scene in my head before I even figured out the plot and everything.

r.i.p. Hafa's keffiyeh. You were good at stuff. Like keeping sand out of Hafa's face and other homely uses. We'll miss you little buddy. #neverforgetkeffiyeh2014


End file.
